


Black Cats And Curtain Calls

by BullySquadess



Series: Theatre Au [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff and stuff, Theatre!AU, here we go again folks, i dont even know what to label this, no miraculous?, when will my sanity return form war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/pseuds/BullySquadess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The actor spoke out with a friendly smile, his voice carrying through the theater to fill each corner with a rich tone. Marinette could practically feel half the audience fall in love... herself included.<br/>((THEATRE!AU))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Caprette and Mirthalia are terrible enablers and this is all their FAULT. Based off this bomb-ass post >>> http://caprette.tumblr.com/post/137075070503/dumps-this-here-and-runs

In hindsight, neither girl could really remember which one of them had made the suggestion.

It was mostly on a whim that they had ended up here, shivering in line outside the box office of the community theatre on a chilly autumn evening.  Alya had been suggesting they do something different for a while now, growing tired of hitting the same cafés and cinemas that served as a backdrop for their weekly hangouts, and Marinette had to agree.

Just a week prior, Rose had been telling them about how she’d landed a supporting role in the company’s next production, gushing about how great all the sets and costumes were coming along as opening day drew near. “We were an absolute mess for the first two weeks or so, but the show has come so far and I think its going to be great!”

 And by the sounds of the reviews that hit local newspapers after the weekend premier, she had been right.

On her first Monday back, the petite blonde maintained a near constant blush as those of her classmates who had been able to make it to the show lavished praises upon her for a spectacular performance. “You guys are just too nice, I was only on stage for a few scenes…” They waved her off, continuing their exaltation of the musical until the first bell had drawn their conversation to a close.

Ever since then, Marinette had been curious to see what all the buzz was about, knowing next to nothing about musical theatre but being intrigued all the same. So perhaps that’s what led her to the current situation.

“Two under the name Cheng for Meet Me In St. Louis, please.” Alya spoke, fingers sliding beneath the window to grasp at the tickets placed there by the smiling old woman working the kiosk.

“Enjoy the show girls,” the lady said with a twinkle, “though I can guess who you really came to see…” She trailed off with a knowing glance, leaving a puzzled Alya and Marinette to nod politely before making their way inside the theatre. 

“Who does she think we’re here to see?” Marinette asked her friend, eyes absently roaming the beautiful, if dated, lobby. High above her was a glittering chandelier, looking strange in contrast to the patterned carpet beneath her feet but adding to the foreign sense of grandeur that permeated the atmosphere of the theater.

Alya also seemed to be taken by their surroundings, letting her eyes rove the wall of framed headshots to their right before turning back to Marinette. “Maybe Rose mentioned we were coming?” she theorized with a shrug, “I remembered her saying most everyone in the cast goes to Kingsworth, so I doubt we’d recognize anyone else.”

The girls made their way to the main auditoria, thanking the door usher as they were each handed a program. Marinette was suddenly glad they had decided to book their tickets in advance, seeing as though nearly every seat in the house was occupied. After a few minutes of searching and fumbling and finally asking for directions, the pair managed to locate their assigned row, edging their way along to plop down in their designated spots.

 _‘Not bad seating at all’_.

 The theater was staggered, meaning even though she wasn’t near the front, Marinette had no problem seeing over the progressively sunken seats before her. They were positioned slightly left, allowing a comfortable ¾ view of the stage, now covered by a heavy dark blue curtain.

Alya skimmed her program absently, head perking up at the sound of Marinette’s voice.

“So do we even know what this show’s about?”

“Apparently it’s the ‘ _classically nostalgic story about the Smiths, a close-knit family living in 1904 America_.” She recited, finger tracing the words as she read them off the inside cover of the yellow pamphlet. “Filled with laughter, trials and possibly even true love, their poignant story will leave you cheering.”

“Well let’s hope so!”

It was then that the lights flickered twice, causing Marinette to look around in concern.

“Now don’t get twitchy, that just means the show’s about to start.” Alya assured her with a laugh, silencing her cell phone before leaning back in her seat. Unlike Marinette, this wasn’t her first show, being practically raised on musicals by her die-hard fan of a mother. “Any moment now the director is going to-“

She didn’t even have time to finish the statement before a portly woman slipped out from behind the curtain, acknowledging the audience’s cheering with a pleasant smile before speaking out in a clear voice.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to Golden Oak Theater’s fourth performance of Meet Me In St. Louis.” More polite applause rung out, swiftly ending so the director could continue her spiel. “Our cast and crew has worked harder than just could ever imagine, putting in countless hours of rehearsal in order to present at the level of skill you’ll be seeing tonight. I’d just like to say, I am so thankful for their dedication in making my vison come to life.”

“But I know you didn’t pay to hear me ramble on,” she said with a grin, earning a few scattered laughs. “So without further ado, enjoy the show!” She exited to a thunderous applause, the sound eventually fading out as the lights dimmed and the orchestra swung into upbeat melody.

Marinette felt an excited thrill as the dark room filled with sound. The song reminded her of wandering, the tunes flowing into each other as they melded and shifted into a beautiful cacophony. About a minute and half in, the curtain began to part, bright lights flicking on to reveal the façade of a Victorian-style house replicated on the stage.

Actors began wandering on from the wings, ladies in flowing Edwardian skirts being escorted by dapper gentleman as they smiled and swung into a happy opening number.

Alya turned to her, looking impressed at how nice they sounded. Marinette had to agree, a grin breaking across her face as she spotted Rose tucked in amongst to ensemble. Despite the fact the cast was made up of entirely high school students, the level of talent was a bit incredible. The voices were warm and friendly, melding together in harmonies that raised unexpected goosebumps across Marinette’s shoulders.

The song ended with a satisfying amount of applause, the building set piece rotating to reveal a living room interior. Marinette sat watching with rapt attention as the story began to unfold, making note of the characters and orienting herself in the time period as the first scene slipped into the second by way another song.

By a mere 10 minutes in, Marinette was absolutely hooked.

She sat grinning in her seat as Esther (whom she had already decided was her favorite of the Smith daughters) was ushered outside by one of her sisters in order to get a glance at their new neighbor. Two men entered from stage right, accompanied by a flurry of music as they crossed path with the siblings.

Marinette watched the scene unfold, nearly giggling as a love-struck Esther was introduced to the handsome John Truitt.

 _‘Same, girl.’_  She thought wistfully, instantly smitten with this newest character. The actor portraying him was quite the looker, with perfectly styled blonde hair that went so well with the light blue suit jacket and slacks his character wore. John spoke out with a friendly smile, his voice carrying through the theatre to fill each corner with a rich tone. Marinette could practically feel half the audience fall in love, herself included.

Far too quickly the scene was over, the enigmatic actor’s departure seeming to drain some of the color from the stage as he exited. Marinette felt herself slump, releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding as an unfounded sense of disappointment washed over her. _‘_

 _Don’t be dumb.'_ She chided herself. _'He’s obviously going to be back for more scenes since they took the time to introduce him.’_

And he was. After a hilariously awkward family dinner and a few more vignettes indicating a month or two had passed, the scene switched to that of a party. Marinette clutched her chair in excitement (earning a puzzled look from Alya) as John Truitt stepped his way in to the Smith house.

The next 10 minutes were filled with an array of celebratory tunes and fun dances (punctuated by more than one longing look between two certain characters) and by the time John and Esther were alone, Marinette’s cheeks where sore from smiling.

“Gosh Miss. Esther. I hope I’m not being too presumptuous, but you don’t need any beauty sleep.” The blonde said, leaning across the bannister shyly. Marinette melted, sighing as John Truitt began to tentatively recite poetry to a blushing Esther. The young lady responded with a song, short but wistful as the lights dimmed around them.

The atmosphere was perfect for romance, Marinette on the edge of her seat as she silently willed the two to kiss. ‘C’mon, C’mon…’

They shook hands.

_'No!'_

“You’ve got a mighty strong grip for a girl!” Marinette wanted to groan, watching as a bashful John Truitt made his exit, leaving sweet Esther to stew on the steps. “Goodnight!”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding!” The teen hissed out, Alya chuckling beside her.

“It’s a campy musical,” the redhead said, speaking low as the stage was set for the next scene, “you know they’ll be together in the end.”

“Well I want them to be together now…” Marinette whined, her friend laughing at her disgruntled expression.

She soon recovered however, as the infectious energy of the show refused to let her pout.

What seemed like the entire ensemble (including Rose!) had congregated on the fabricated trolley that sat center stage, launching into yet another upbeat tune as Act 1 neared its end. Just before the curtain fell, Esther gave a delighted cry (one Marinette echoed in her head) as she spotted John running to catch the railcar.

He hopped on just in time, settling next to his neighbor with a contented sigh as the first half of the musical drew to a close. The audience gave an appreciative applause, Marinette grinning excidedly as the house lights flickered back on.

“That was so sweet!” she practically squealed, vibrating in her seat as her friend stood for a stretch. Around them, people began to mill about, exiting the auditoria to make good use of their break. Marinette didn’t dare move, not wanting the break the spell the story had placed on her.

“I should have known you’d be the kind to like happy musicals.” Alya said with a smirk.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, Mari! You’re just such a romantic at heart is all.” The accused girl gave a sigh, head nodding wistfully as she recalled how sweet and charming that John Truitt was. “See I’m more into the tragic musicals. Give me some gritty humor, mixed with a great deal of pain and I’ll leave the theatre happy!”

“Whatever floats your boat…” Marinette responded with a snort at Alya’s mischievous expression, “Meanwhile, allow me to enjoy my rainbows and unicorns while I can!”

 

* * *

 

 

She didn’t think it was possible, but the second act was somehow even better than the first.

Marinette gasped when Mr.Smith announced the family was moving away from St.Louis, giggled at the sisters’ antics at the winter ball, squealed at John’s proposal, squealed louder when Esther agreed with a kiss, cried at Tootie’s breakdown, brightened when it was revealed the family wasn’t leaving after all and gaped openly as the final scene unfolded.

The stage was set in a bluish haze, the cast dressed in grand suits and gowns of white as giant hats and filly parasols abounded. The costumes where exquisite, drawing the seamstress out of Marinette as she admired each flounce and lapel. Her focus was turned back the action however when the orchestra began to replay the main theme, sudden bright lights hitting the faces of the brilliantly smiling cast.

“I can’t believe it, right here where we live!” Esther announced breathlessly, taking in the glow of the World’s Fair with her fiancée by her side. “Right here in St. Louis…” The music crescendoed, drawing out the final notes joyfully before the song ended to a massive applause. Marinette felt herself rise out of her seat right alongside the rest of the audience, unexpected tears prickling at the edge of her eyes and a massive grin stretched across her face.

The curtain closed for only a few brief seconds, opening one again to allow the actors their bows. First came the ensemble members, Alya giving a hoot as they spotted a brilliantly blushing Rose among the ranks. Next were the supporting characters, running on in small groups to dip at the edge of the stage. The applause only got louder as more prominent actors came out for their turn, cycling through the entirety of the Smith family before…

Marinette smiled impossibly wider, hands clapping furiously as John and Esther came out hand in hand.  The young man took his bow first, giving the audience a dazzling smile before gesturing to his curtsying co-star. Marinette’s eyes never left his blonde head, heart beating fast as she soaked up his intoxicating stage presence. 

The entire cast joined hands for one last bow, waving gleefully as the curtain swept before them.

Almost instantly, Marinette was hit by a strange sense of grief. Her realization that the show was over, that John and Esther’s story was done, weighted heavily upon her as she allowed Alya to coax her towards the exit.

“Is it weird to feel empty?” She questioned, brow furrowing as they reached the ladies bathroom.

“Ah, post-show mourning.” Alya said knowingly, shaking her head. “Yeah its pretty common to feel a little sad after a musical ends, especially one as immersive as that was. But you’ll get past it. Im assuming you liked it?”

Marinette nodded vigorously, stepping aside to let a woman exit the washroom. “It was so exciting! And oh my God the _costumes_ ….I could just melt!”

“I knew that would be your favorite part.” Alya remarked, drying her hands before the pair slipped into the hallway. “I think for me, the best...Marinette?”

The smaller girl had stopped suddenly, eyes blowing wide as she registered the fact that just a few feet in front of her was…

“Its them!” She hissed, pulling Alya close. “Esther and John are _right there!”_

She wasn’t seeing things. Lined up beside the exit was a majority of the cast, waving as people exited the theater. And right next to the doorway stood the stars themselves, pleasant smiles still pasted across their faces as audience members congratulated them on an excellent performance.

Alya gave a laugh at her friend’s deer-in-the-headlight reaction. “Its called a receiving line you spaz. Not super typical of bigger productions but pretty common of local theaters.”

“Why-why are they there?” Marinette managed, body lit up with anxious giddiness as she watched John’s actor shake a woman’s hand with his twinkling grin.

‘O _h gosh he was even more handsome up close....’_

“I guess it’s to show appreciation,” Alya shrugged, “or maybe a way to connect with their viewers a bit more. Either way, at least you’ll get to talk to them before we leave.”

Marinette squeaked, shaking her head vigorously. “There’s no way I can go out that door, I’ll puke all over him!”

“Him ?” She friend ask with a smirk, following the girls gaze to rest on the particular blonde-haired boy she had yet to stop staring at. “Oh my, looks like Esther isn’t the only once smitten with a certain heart-throb now is she?”

“We’ll go out the back!” Marinette babbled, hauling her friend off to look for another exit.

In her fervor to escape the vision of the sweetly smiling boy (green, his eyes where green), she ended up taking some wild turns, finding she had landed them in an area that didn’t look to open to guests. Pipes ran up the wall of the hallway, the distant sounds of chatter punctuated by creaks and scrapes, almost like construction.

“Uh, Mari.” Alya began, looking around the dark corridor. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here…”

“You’re not!” A jovial voice responded from behind them, making both girls jump. A laughing boy stepped out from behind a stack of crates, removing the clunky headset from around his ears before sweeping a hand out. “But I won’t snitch on you.” He gave them a smile. “Im guessing you got lost.”

“You could say that.” Alya muttered, shooting her sheepish friend a look. “I don’t suppose you could show us to a side exit?”

“Ah, you don’t want to stare down the laser smiles of the cast members do you?” The stranger said knowing. “I don’t blame you, they can be pretty freaky when they’re in show mode, especially with all the stage makeup. You guys can slip out the back, no problem.”

Marinette relaxed, flashing the stranger a thankful smile as he gestured for them to follow him deeper into the building. Dark hallways turned darker, the trio fumbling around until being ushered through a heavy door. Now in a much brighter space, Marinette took in the scene before her.

“Are we backstage?” She asked wondrously, watching as black clad teenagers wheeled around set pieces and took down lighting rigs. The area was huge, giant garage-like doors slid open on one wall to reveal the reverse end of the stage. Couches where scattered about, along with changing screens, mic stands and tables cluttered with water bottles and sheet music.

“That we are.” Their guide replied, turning to face the girls properly. “Welcome to th- _Alya?!”_

Marinette’s friend gave a jerk, eyes narrowing before recognition dawned. “Oh! It can’t be… Bot Brain?”

“C’mon, what are you? 7 years old?” The boy replied, trying to looked annoyed but failing to wipe the smirk from his face. “I do have a name you know!”

Alya just laughed. “Yeah I guess. Marinette, this is Nino. We went to Primaire together, what? 4 years ago now?”

“Give or take.” Nino said, sticking out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you Marinette. I gotta ask though, how did such a sweet looking girl like yourself fall in to such bad company?”

“Oh clam it, before I tell her about the lego incident!”

“You know I’ve done a lot of growing since then! And I’d really hate to relive such a….”

Marinette tuned out their banter, taking in the atmosphere as she followed the two bickering teens towards the side exit. Her eyes moved upwards, glimpsing at the lofted space where she could just make out racks upon racks of colorful costumes. ‘ _What I wouldn’t give for 5 minutes up there._ ’ She thought wistfully, not realizing her feet had slowed until a voice broke through her thoughts.

“What?” She questioned, turning back the pair.

“Alya was telling me you sew, right?” Nino questioned, following the trail of her gaze. She nodded. “That’s awesome! I’d sneak you up there if grumpy, old Madame Edwina wasn’t skulking about.” He leaned in conspiratorially, “They say she’s part goat.” Nino gave a bark of laughter. “But anyways. If you happen to be here after Sunday’s show, the loft should be clear and I can definitely let you wander around for a bit.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “You could do that?”

“I’m the stage manager!” Nino said grandly, gesturing to the heavy headset still strung around his neck. “I kind of run this whole thing!”

“What about the director?” Alya cut in with a look. Nino just scoffed.

“A mere figurehead. You’re looking at the real man in charge!”

“Ha! Like you-”

 **“That would be great!”** Marinette interrupted, not waiting for Alya to ruin her chance at seeing the costumes with one of her biting retorts. “We’ll definitely be here Sunday!”

“We will?” Her friend muttered, earning her a sharp poke in the ribs. “I guess we will.”

“Great!” Nino said, stopping at the end of the corridor. “Just make your way back here after the show and find me. Until then…” he wrenched open the door, allowing a cool breeze to blow in from the outside lot, “I hope you ladies enjoyed the show!”

The girls stepped out with murmurs of gratitude, Alya giving her re-discovered classmate one last good natured ribbing before he had to return to work.

Marinette just burrowed into her jacket, glancing back through the doorway when her gaze snapped to something over Nino’s shoulder. The breath caught in her throat as green eyes met her own blue, the oh-so-familiar actor glancing over just as the door began to close. At the very last second, one of his eyelids snapped shut, sending tingles down Marinette’s spine as the building closed up with a thud.

_‘Did John Truitt just wink at me?’_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey look more adorable cap art for the first chapter >>> http://caprette.tumblr.com/post/137270996898/bullysquadesss-black-cats-and-curtain-calls  
> enjoy kiddos!

_“Adrien Agreste”_

Marinette murmured the name to herself, settling on her chaise thoughtfully as she assigned it to the face of the actor from the night before. By this time of morning she would have usually been out the door, but thankfully it was Saturday, meaning she had plenty of down time to sit and stew on her thoughts.

And boy did she have thoughts.

_‘His name is Adrien.’_

By the time Marinette had made it back home after last night's musical, she was itching for more.

More songs, more costumes, more story to feed her over-active wonderings. She wanted something beyond what the hour-long show had given her. She wanted to know each character deeper, know what happened after the curtain fell.

It was an enigma. The musical seemed to draw you in, paint such a vivid picture that you could feel your surroundings slip away, until you almost forgot you were not, in fact, a bystander in 1904 St. Louis. Marinette was floored by how enthralled she still felt, visions of frilly white gowns and glittering green eyes swirling around her mind as she reluctantly turned in for the night.

In fact it wasn’t until a few hours ago that Marinette even remembered her program, fishing it out of her purse to flip through with interest. It was mostly ads, lists of sponsors and contributors to the show. There was the brief synopsis Alya had read off, as well as some background information on the setting of the story.

Which is why Marinette didn’t expect the air to catch in her throat the way it did as her eyes fell on the page titled “Cast”.

Yet there it was, all the characters listed out with decidedly less-American names typed in beside them.

Esther wasn’t Esther, but Alix Kubdel.

Rose’s real name was Sabrina. Fred was Nathanaël, Lucille was Chloe, Lon was Kim…

The list went on and on until…

 

_John Truitt- Adrien Agreste_

 

She had to fight the urge to be disappointed.

It was a strange feeling, really. Knowing that behind the character was a real person, someone who went to school and wore normal clothes and probably didn’t make a habit of bursting in to song at any given time (although if what Alya had told her about theatre kids carried true, that last observation might not be entirely accurate). Marinette had felt so sure, so connected to each person on stage, that a small part of her was disheartened at the realization she had no clue what any of them were actually like once the lights fell.

Of course that didn’t stop her from wanting to see the show again.

“Seriously?” Alya questioned, the disbelief evident in her tone. “Need I remind you we just watched it last night? Also, if I’m not mistaken, you already promised we be there tomorrow… so why in the world would you want to go to tonight’s showing as well?”

“It was fun…” Marinette trailed off, clumsily painting her toenails with one hand as the other held her phone tight against her ear. Maybe she was going a bit overboard, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed. Watching the musical had offered her a brief reprieve from her daily life, allowing her to just lean back and fully enjoy a world where things would inevitably work out in end. _‘If only reality was so perfectly scripted.’_

“I mean sure, it was cute, but I don’t know if I can listen to the Trolley song three days in a row…”

“That’s my favorite!”

_“Mari…”_

_“Alya…”_

_…_

“Alright, fine!” Her friend conceded from the other side of the receiver. “But if you’re dragging me there so you can ogle John Truitt-“

“Adrien.” Marinette cut in, wincing as she tried to ease the excitement in her voice. “The actor’s name is Adrien. I, ugh, read it in the program…” She trailed off lamely, earning a laugh from Alya.

“Sorry, _Adrien._ If you’re dragging me back to ogle Adrien, I promise there will be no more musicals for you, at least for a while.”

“Perfect! Meet you there at 7?”

A sigh.

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?”

Marinette just giggled, bidding her friend goodbye before disconnecting the call.

* * *

 

What’s that saying?

The one about the second time being the charm?

Marinette sprung up in a standing ovation, practically glowing as her body thrummed with happiness. The orchestra rung out with a gleeful instrumental version of the main theme, creating a perfect melody to clap along with as the cast members once again filed out for their bows.

Their seats were closer tonight, practically dead center and just a few rows from the front, giving Marinette a lovely view of the show. Not once was she bored at any point that night, listening with rapt attention as she began to notice the little things her mind had missed in her last viewing.

Little costume details, an especially funny line, or (even more excitedly) the nuanced looks on the faces of her favorite duo…

Marinette held in a squeal as they entered the stage, mimicking their routine from the night before as they graciously accepted the audience’s praise. The entire cast joined hands, taking one more grand bow before the curtain swept before them.

 

And although she might have been imagining it, Marinette swore she saw Adrien Agreste’s eyes seek her out just before they were blocked by heavy, blue velvet.

 

A warm weight settled on her shoulders, making her movements lazy as Alya half-dragged her out of her seat. “What did you think?” the girl sighed, mind still captivated by the colors and the songs of the night.

“Well it sure was…the exact same as it was yesterday.”

“It totally was not! There was more energy! Didn’t you notice how much better Tootie did? And oh my gosh, the Christmas scene was just…” Marinette went on and on, clutching a modest bouquet in her hands tightly as Alya continued to prod her from the auditorium.

After yesterday’s minor freak out, Marinette found she was disappointed in herself for not properly congratulating Rose. So this time, before she made it to the theater, she made a point of stopping by the florist and purchasing a bright red bundle of the girl’s namesake.

‘ _Of course the idea seemed so much simpler beforehand’_ Marinette thought shakily, realizing for the first time that if she was to pass Rose in the receiving line, she would also be passing the rest of the cast.

_‘_ _Everyone including…’_

Alya noticed her friend’s discomfort, laying a steadying hand on her as the two made their way towards the main entrance. "You'll be fine."

The chatter in the hall was loud and carefree, all smiles and laughs and flashes of cameras as friend and family members proudly embraced their stars. Standing amongst a few of the other ensemble members, Rose’s face lit up in a brilliant smile as she caught sight of her classmates. “Marinette! Alya! I thought I saw you out in the audience but I couldn’t be sure.” She accepted her bouquet with an appreciative bob of her head. “Thank you so much for coming!”

“We really enjoyed the show.” Marinette gushed sincerely, speaking more for herself than the bored-looking Alya beside her. “You have a really pretty voice Rose. I think you truly belong on stage.” They hardly had time to share a parting hug, with promises to see each other in class on Monday, before the flow of people began to push Marinette and Alya towards the door.

The pair worked their way through the rest of the cast, giving compliments and congratulations as the actors responded in thanks. Marinette was about ready to jump out of her skin, fingers absently grasping at the single, long-stemmed flower she had plucked from Rose’s bouquet, as she came upon the members of the Smith family with a wondrous smile.

They all looked quite different up close, their facial features easier to pick out thanks to the heavy stage makeup each performer wore. But it was them, the Smith Family, standing right there before her.

Marinette gave the little girl who played Tootie a triumphant fist bump, marveling at the fact someone so young could act so professionally as the actress accepted her praise with a polite thanks.

When she got to Lon, the tall actor flashed her a dazzling smile, graciously posing for Alya’s selfie before thanking them for their attendance.

This went on and on, Marinette getting progressively more star-struck at each performer she met with.

By the time she reached the end of the receiving line, she was about ready to melt in to her shoes. The crowed around her shifted slowly, each audience member stopping at the door to give some sort of acknowledgement to the leading characters standing at the entrance. Marientte wasn’t sure if she wanted to push past them or disappear into the masses, heartbeat quickening with each step forward.

_‘Oh gosh I can’t do this! They’re right there! John and Esther are right there! What if I mess up or-‘_

She didn’t have time to flee before she found herself planted right in front of the leading lady herself. Marinette had to reel in a bout of giddy laughter, letting her eyes trail over Esther’s gorgeous gown before popping up to examine the actress face.

Up this close, she could now tell the curling, honey-colored hair falling across her shoulders was in fact a wig, settling around her heavily-made up face. To Marinette’s further surprise, the girl seemed to be around her age, though it was clear her look had been crafted in order to affect maturity. False lashes were perched atop her eyelids, brows filled and cheeks exaggeratedly rosy as they quirked up into a smile.

“Thanks for coming!”

Esther’s familiar voice broke through Marinette’s fog, drawing her attention to that fact she had probably been staring at the girl for the past few seconds, mouth slightly ajar. “Oh! Ugh-of course!” She stuttered out, kicking herself for spacing out. “You were amazing by the way! You –um…” Marinette tried to grasp at her words, cheeks heating up as the actress just continued giving her that pleasant look of encouragement. “…you were my favorite.” She ended lamely, wincing at her own lack of grace.

“Well thank you!” Esther responded brightly, sticking out a gloved hand to grasp at each girl in a friendly shake.

“Yeah, well done.” Alya tacked on, laying a steadying arm across Marinette’s shoulder as the girl threatened to collapse. “Way to snag that fine Mr. Truitt tail!”

**“Alya!”**

 ‘ _Why does she always have to be like this?!’_

Esther’s actress just snorted, drawing Marinette’s wide gaze as the girl’s smile twisted into something akin to a smirk. The resulting expression was one that looked somehow foreign on the sweet character’s face.

 “If you say so,” the actress began, shaking her head slightly before reaching a hand out to tug at the body standing a few feet away, “Though my Fiancée does tend to wander off… ”

All of the sudden, Marinette found herself face to face with none other than John Truitt.

The actor blinked as his partner pulled him forward, mouth instantly settling into a warm smile as he regarded the girls before him. Marinette focused on not melting in the carpet as he shot Esther’s actress a playful look, twining his arm in hers before his attention turned to Alya.

“Thank you for coming.”

His voice was bright and enthralling, sounding so different up close. Marinette’s curious gaze wandered up his suit, following the thin wire that snaked its way up the side of his neck before curling around the edge of his ear and finally settling at the corner of his lips. The tiny mic was taped here and there, the color of it blending in well with his tan skin, made flawless with a brutal application of foundation.

Her eyes had yet to leave his mouth when he turned to address her, lips curling as he formed his next words.

 _‘Shoot, he's saying something.’_ Marinette thought desperately,unable to hear past the rush of blood behind her ears. The lips began to laugh, only darkening her blush as she swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘ _C’mon, Mari! Just for once in your life, don’t be awkward!’_

Putting all her focus towards channeling whatever confidence she could muster, Marinette took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze before…

 

“YOU’RE GOOD!” she squeaked loudly, thrusting her hand forward with the pale, pink rose clutched between shaking fingers.

 

For a moment everything froze, Marinette wincing at her outburst but unable to look away. Like a train wreck. Or a hurricane.

Adrien Agreste’s eyes were adorably crossed, focused on her extended offering as Esther broke out into laughter beside him.

 _‘Way to go…’_ Marinette thought miserably, already planning her own funeral as she felt her face grow impossibly hotter under his shocked stare. _‘Oh God, how in the world am I going-’_

Her inner monologue cut off abruptly as she felt the brush of fingers against her own.

“Thanks.” The boy said, an expression Marinette couldn’t place through her own flurry of thoughts working under his coy smile. “Good was what I was going for.”

All she could do was nod dumbly as he accepted her flower, tucking in in with the armful of bouquets he was already sporting before returning his gaze to hers. _'How is he so handsome and sweet and kind and handsome and funny and polite and handsome...'_ Marinette felt dizzy.

It looked as if he were about to say something more, mouth quirking open as...

Her fight or flight response had kicked in, instilling a frantic need to just _run._ Marinette ducked her head to barrel past him, out of the theater doors.

_‘Run, run, run, run, RUN.’_

She could just vaguely hear Alya spouting an apology before taking off behind her, but she wasn’t in any mood to wait for her friend to catch up.  Marinette’s heartbeat pounded in her ears, the cool night air hitting her flushed face with an almost audible hiss as she booked it down the sidewalk.

 _‘You’re good??’_ She asked herself incredulously, pace slowing down as the full weight of her embarrassment came crashing down around her. ‘ _Of all the things I could have said…you’re good?!”_

Marinette planted her feet on the busy street corner, nearly toppling as a body collided with hers from behind. Alya gave a soft curse, arms flying out to steady the pair before they slammed into the concrete. “What in world, Mari? You ran out of there like you’d seen a ghost!”.

The accused could only groan in response, burrowing her head in Alya’s shoulder as her stomach continued to do uneasy flips. “Now I can never go back…” she muttered, her reply muffled through her friend’s heavy collar.

“You _will_ go back.” Alya soothed, tugging her friend away to look down in encouragement. “And you _will_ get to examine all those incredible costumes. Don’t let a little slip of the tongue ruin this experience for you.”

“I said he was good!”

“And he was! Besides, he didn’t seem all that put off by your comment. In fact…” Alya drawled, letting her smile turn smirk as she gave the girl a nudge, “he seemed pretty disappointed by your sudden departure. I think he really wanted to talk to you, or maybe just keep checking you out.”

“He was not!” Marinette sputtered, cheeks flushing despite herself. Alya just laughed, steering her friend towards their path homeward.

“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im having way too much fun writing this...   
> when i die, bury me in fluff


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally make it to closing night.... enjoy kiddos!

It was by Alya’s insistence (and perhaps her own burning curiosity as well) that Marinette once again found herself standing in line at the box office, shivering as the cotton stockings she wore under her dress did little to protect against the biting wind swirling around her ankles.

Favorable reviews and word of mouth worked wonders for publicity it would seem, as the theater was busier than Marinette had ever seen it. Throngs of well-dressed people milled about in order to secure their seats for Meet Me in St. Louis’ closing show. There were whispers amongst the crowd that finale tickets had sold out in record time, meaning anyone who didn’t have reserved seating was straight out of luck.

“This is insane!” Alya muttered, elbowing her way forward as Marinette followed with whispered apologies to the people her friend knocked aside. “At this rate we won’t get inside until intermission!”

“At least the line is moving.” Marinette soothed, trying to fight down her own panic as she checked her watch once again. _‘tick tock…’_

The night before, they had managed to snag tickets before they sold out, but just barely. This led Marinette to believe they'd be stuck with nosebleed seating at tonight’s show (not that it really mattered though, it was their third time seeing it). Of course if things didn’t hurry up out here, the girls would mostly likely not make it through the theater doors in time, as the entrances were shut once the opening number began. And if that did happen, they’d be forced to wander the lobby until the first act was over.

See, a poor view Marinette could handle. But no view at all? Now that was unacceptable.

Sure, she would still be able to see the second half just fine. In fact, Marinette could conceivably miss the entire show without jeopardizing her chances of taking Nino up on his offer of a costume loft tour. But this was her last chance to really take it all in. The music and the lights. The singing and the dancing. The actors and their intoxicating smiles…

…and his perfectly tousled blonde hair…and his kind eyes….and the way he smiled when-

“I had a feeling you ladies would be back!” The woman at the ticket kiosk said, holding up a finger as she turned to rifle through the stack of tickets before her. “Seems like you two really fell in love with the show.”

“Or something like that…” Alya trailed off, giving her jittery friend a look.

“The name was Cheng, correct?” said the ticket vendor distractedly, brow furrowing as she reached the bottom of the pile. The girls gave a nod, fear creeping up through Marinette’s spine as she watched the woman come up empty a second time. “And you’re sure you had tickets reserved?”

“Yes!” Marinette responded, hand gripping the edge of the window. _‘There’s no way we’re getting backstage if we can’t even get inside the building!’_

“Oh here we are!” The woman behind the glass said cheerfully. Marinette let out a relieved sigh, watching her pull out two tickets from a separate folder to her left. “You girls didn’t tell me you had sprung for front row seating! Anyways, enjoy the show!”

_‘Wait, what?’_

“But, we didn’t-“

“Thanks!” Alya said, cutting off her friend’s confused objection as she graciously scooped up their tickets. “We will!” Marinette just allowed herself to be dragged through the front entrance as Alya set a raid pace towards the main stage.

“We didn’t get front row seats!” The teen hissed, feet stumbling over the carpet as she distantly heard the sounds of clapping.

“Doesn’t matter! We're cutting it close as it is and you don’t see me complaining!”

“What if they belong to someone else?”

“They were under _your_ name.”

“There are a million Chengs!”

“Just don’t question it!” Alya said breathlessly, the pair slipping past the doors just as the usher went to shut them. The theater was already dark, the overture in full swing as they made their way down the center aisle. Turns out they didn’t even have to look at their ticket to check which numbers they were, as the only two unoccupied seats in the whole house were visibly placed in the front row.

Dead center in the front row.

 _‘Oh my goodness._ ’ Marinette thought dazedly, settling down in her spot as she took in view. _‘Everything is so huge!_ ’ The stage was exhilaratingly close, gulfed only by the sunken pit containing the orchestra before her. She felt the music solidly wrap around her from the short distance, stirring a familiar excitement as she squirmed in anticipation.

When the curtains open, she had to hold in a gasp at how tangible everything seemed. The lacy trains of the actress’ dresses seemed to sweep around the open space before, and Marinette swore she’d be able to run her hand along the set pieces if she had the guts to reach out and do so. Everything was brighter, louder, and more vibrant from their premium seats, drawing her in with every note.

In fact, Marinette was so enthralled by her excellent view that she didn’t realize how fast the show was flying by until…

 

“May I present our neighbor John Truitt?”

 

Marinette jolted in her seat, a hand flying out to grip the arm beside her as she concentrated on not having an aneurism. At first, Alya just gave her neurotic friend a roll of her eyes, lazily glancing back towards the show before she too seized up.

 Alya returned Marinette’s grip with equal fervor, a slow grin spreading across her face. “No way, Mari!” she whispered, eyes darting between the frozen girl and the stage, ‘ _Is that…?’_

It was.

Right there, tucked beneath John’s lapel, was a pale pink rose.

 

* * *

 

The show was great, of course it was.

When the time came once again for the performers to take their final bows, the entire house was on their feet, thunderous applause loud enough to drown out the orchestra’s ministrations. Marinette was on a high, clapping alongside them as she watched the actors make their way across the stage. Although she had seen them only three times, talked to them only once, she still felt bond to each and every character, heart breaking just a bit more as each one stepped forward for their last-ever bows.

 _'Goodbye, Tootie.'_ She thought sadly as she watched the tiny girl bob at the edge of the stage. Each character gave their final thanks, waving as they moved to stand lined up across the stage. _'Goodbye Lon and Rose and Lucille and Fred...'_

Marinette’s clapping (as well as her heartbeat) sped up, the house around her exploding into applause as the leading couple made their way triumphantly to center stage. Esther was beaming, chest rising and falling in an exhilarated pace as she waved kindly at the adoring audience.

And John? Well he was smiling too, pitching forward into a graceful bow before helping his partner dip into a full curtsy, the damnable pink rose still pinned upon his chest. Marinette felt her face heat up as he very obviously caught her gaze, eyes never leaving hers as the cast joined hands for one final group bow.

By now her hands had stilled, the roar of applause around her fading into a sharp buzz she found herself pinned down under his look. For a brief second, she thought perhaps Adrien Agreste was taunting her, giving her some knowing smirk as she recalled their awkward (on her part anyway) encounter from the night before. But as she studied his face further, body tingling at the proximity her seat allowed for, Marinette began to see something else at work behind his pasted on smile.

 It was a curiosity, an excitement that only stood to feed her own. It was intense, almost intense enough to force her head down, but Marinette couldn’t bring herself to look away, instead holding his gaze until the curtain mercifully (cruelly) swept between them.

And just like that, she knew that was the last time she would see him.

Marinette felt the noise around her come back into focus, snapping her from her own thoughts as the applause slowly tapered off into excided conversation. The lights came back up, too bright, too much, and far too real after the fantastic display that had just gone on.

 _‘That’s it,_ ’ She thought, slumping back in her seat to process _‘, the last performance._ ’ The only thing keeping Marinette from slipping into the deep abyss of post-show blues was the whispered promise of more to come. Of finally being able to get her greedy hands on the treasure trove of costumes that sat just behind the stage.

As if reading her friend’s thoughts, Alya slipped into the seat beside her, leaning back as she rolled her neck around. “So I say we give the crew a few minutes to start squaring everything away before we go back to find Nino, sound good?”

Marinette could only nod, glazed-over eyes still staring at the drawn curtains.

Alya gave a laugh, propping her chin up before continuing in a sing-song voice, “Maybe if you’re lucky, Adrien will give you a tour of the changing room as well…”

“You don’t think he’ll be back there?!” Marinette squeaked, already feeling those first whispers of doubt take root in her chest.

“Well he is an actor, and actors are frequently found backstage…”

“No! Actors belong on-stage! Where I have no chance of sticking my foot in my mouth when I try and talk to them!”

“Oh c’mon!” Alya scoffed, the noise echoing in the rapidly emptying theater, “He wore your flower on stage for Christssakes! And don’t think I didn’t catch the sickening amount of goo-goo eyes you were flashing at each other. I’m telling you, that boy wants to get to know you.” Marinette just flushed, grumbling out a half-hearted dissent before burrowing further into her seat.

She couldn’t think-wouldn’t think!-about that right now. She had said her goodbyes to John Truitt. To Adrien Agreste. To which ever green-eyed young man had been standing on stage as the curtain fell. It was an infatuation, one she simply would not let leave this theater with her.

Besides, her first love was fashion, and clothes never made her feel anxious.

So it was with a calming sense of anticipation that Marinette stood up minutes later, following Alya as the girls found their way back to the dark hallway and heavy metals door they had gotten lost in just days before. The anticipation bubbled over into full-blown excitement however as the teen found herself once again wrapped up in the commotion of backstage labor.

All around her were triumphant crew members, congratulating each other on another show survived as they began breaking set. And in the middle of the busy mass of black-clad people was Nino, his headset tilted sideways as he directed the flow of bodies around them with a strung-out grimace.

“Remember to lower the track lights first, and _please_ file the cells away in their proper spots. If Mr. Thompson finds them out of place again he’ll burn this cruddy building to the ground.” He dismissed the tech with a wave of his wand, swiveling to address another group of assembled stagehands. “The scrim needs to be taken down _before_ we break set. Let Natasha know if you have trouble with the flys and she’ll show you how to jimmy it off without breaking them. Again.” 

Nino took a deep breath, raising his voice to be heard over the commotions. “And if everyone could please make it a priority to remove all stage tape that would be supper stellar!” Affirmative noises rang out among the chaos, and the stage manager allowed himself to exhale in pride, sliding of his earphones before catching sight of the only two stagnant bodies in the green room.

“Hey, there you are!” He said, marching over to the girls with a relieved smile. “Right on time for my mental breakdown!”

“If you’re too busy to let me into the costume storage I completely understand!” Marinette said sincerely, still a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity going on around her.

“Are you kidding?” Nino rushed to assure her, gesturing for them to follow, “You ladies are my excuse to slip away.” He yanked open a door, revealing a narrow stairway upwards before letting his eyes scan the backstage area once again. “Besides, it usually at least 10 minutes for my crew to completely ruin everything and we’ll only be gone for 5…”

“Sounds like you’re got a lot of confidence in their ability.” Alya laughed, bringing up the rear as the trio made their way up to the loft.

“I have a lot of confidence in their ability... to slack off and break things.” Nino said with a shake of his head, flicking on the lights to illuminate rows upon rows of loaded metal garment racks. “Thankfully, my prop master is down there somewhere. She can usually keep everyone in line for short periods of time.”

“Oh my god…” Marinette interrupted, a wide smile breaking across her face as she rushed down the center row of costumes. Alya gave a snort at her friend’s dramatics, her and Nino hanging back contently as the seamstress ran her hands along the wire hangers with glee. “This is…it goes on forever!”

“Hat are on the back wall and accessories are squared away behind the special collections if you’re interested.” The stage manager chuckled, watching the girl’s eyes grow impossibly wider. Marinette nodded, resisting the urge to turn each and every costume inside out to inspect the seams. _‘You probably aren’t even supposed to be up here._ ’ She reminded herself sharply, managing to keep her hands to herself as she wandered the costume-stacked corners of the space ‘ _And_   _I don’t think the head costumer would be too pleased to find their property had been ransacked by an over-eager teenage girl…’_

Marinette lost track of time, just content to explore and inspect every new piece she came across. Collections ranged from wild west, to traditional Japan and even outer space, each rack crowded with a mis-match of homemade and factory produced costumes. The historical garb was arranged by time period, creating a fascinating timeline as Marinette traced her way along the row. She saw a notable absence of pieces around the Edwardian era, understandable given Meet Me in St. Louis’ 1904 setting.

 _‘Maybe they’re being kept somewhere else?’_ Marinette thought, fighting down a wave of disappointment at the sight of the empty rack. “Hey Nino?” She called tentatively, rounding the corner to find the two teens leaning amicably against the railing of the loft. “I can’t seem to find Esther’s dress, do you know where it’s hung up?”

“Esther’s dress, hmmm…” The stage manager tilted his head, eyes narrowing before snapping open in realization. “Oh you mean the finale on with the-“ here he made a vague, finger-wiggling gesture atop one of his wrists, hand falling limp for emphasis. Marinette gave a laugh.

“Yes, the one with the lace-trimmed sleeves.”

“Well she’s probably still in it.” Nino said, raising a finger before leaning over the rail to address the mass of people still working in the area below. “Hey does anyone know if the cast is back from receiving yet?”

“They just got in!” A voice replied.

“Cool, can you get Alix out here for me? Thanks man!”

“Oh! You don’t have to… I mean…” Marinette flushed, feeling like a burden as she rushed over to grab his shoulder. “It’s not that important!”

Nino just waved her off with a kind smile, eyes flicking up to hers as he assured her it was no trouble. “Don’t sweat it, Marinette. Honestly they should have turned their costumes back in by-“

A rough voice cut him off, floating up from the space below them in a borderline taunt.

“Waddaya want, Nino?!”

 Marinette’s ear cocked at the sound, trying to place it in her memory. The trio of teens leaned over the rail at the call, Marinette’s eyes blowing wide as she took in the sight of a crossed arm Esther Smith glaring dangerously up at them.

“Cool it superstar, I just need you to take the dress off!” Nino yelled down with a roll of his eyes.

“Way ahead of you there chief…” To Marinette’s utter shock, the actress snapped open the velcro back with a stretch of her arms, casually hoisting the costume off her body as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Here,” She called, flinging the discarded dress upwards in a flurry white flounces to smack into Nino’s outstretched hands. “And take this too!” This time it was Marinette who caught the projectile, gulping as she found a mass of golden hair clutched between her fingers.

“Hey! Careful there Kubdel! If Madame Edwina saw you throwing stuff she’d never let you into any of her costumes!”

“Ha! I’d like to see the goat try and stuff me into something that frilly again!”

Marinette just stared dazedly as Esther’s voice came out of the snarling, pink-haired girl below them. She stood in just a nude bra and matching half-slip, tapping her toe as crew members weaved their way around her. If she (or anyone else backstage for that matter) was at all uncomfortable with her nearly undressed state, she gave no indication, instead focusing her eyes upwards as they settled on Marinette.

“Hey, is that Adrien’s princess?” The actress said, a wicked grin breaking across her face.

 _‘Adrien’s…what now?!’_ Marinette thought desperately, conjuring a small wave as she continued to be examined by the girl below.

“This is Marinette and Alya,” Nino called down confidently, _“I’m_ giving them a tour of the costume loft and _you’re_ going to go turn in your mic pack!” He ended with an incline of his head shooing Alix away. She rolled her eyes, turning away as she scratched at the wire taped at her face.

Before she left however, the actress shot another mischievous glance over her shoulder. “Alright, alright! But you should totally invite them to join us at the pub when they get done up there!”

“Oh, that’s not-“ Marinette didn’t have time to stammer out an objection before the girl disappeared  behind a corner, snickering as she did so.

Nino gave another huff, muttering something about theatre kids before leaning back from the railing with a smile. “Well she kind of beat me to the punch, but would you ladies like to come crash the cast party tonight?”

Alya watched Marinette seize up, taking the opportunity to reply before the girl exploded.

“That would be awesome!” She said slyly, side-eying her friend. “Right, Mari?” Marinette just simmered, pleading silently for the mercy she knew wasn’t bound to come before manually relaxing her shoulders.

“I’d have to confirm with my parents…” she ground out slowly with a poisonous look towards her smug best friend. “… but yeah, sounds fun.”

_‘And of course by fun I mean DISASTEROUS.’_

“Awesome!” Nino said with a thumbs up, thrusting an armload of gown into Marinette’s flushed face. “If you both just want to chill up here for about 20 minutes while I wrap things up downstairs, we can all three walk to the pub together. Sounds good?”

“Sounds great!” Alya snickered, ignoring her friend’s murderous gaze.

Nino gave them one last grin, sliding the headset back on before making his way back down the stairs. As soon as he was out of earshot, Marinette gave a groan, slumping into a nearby chair as she absently stoked at the ivory lace piled in her lap.

“You always have to meddle…don’t you?” She whined, bothering her bottom lip in concentration. Alya’s snickers just grew louder as she planted herself in front of Marinette, hips cocking as she leaned down to capture her friend’s eyes.

“C’mon. We said we wanted to do something different, and this is different!”

“Different, not insane!”

“Psh! Tomato, to-mah-to! Besides, Rose will be there to make sure these Kingsworth kids don’t dump us in an alley somewhere.”

Marinette gave another wordless whine, pushing herself up to locate a hanger for Esther’s dress.

 _‘Well, if I’m going to be here for 20 minutes, might as well make the best of it._ ’ She thought, trying to focus her attention towards the plethora of costumes around her, and away from the impending anxiety she felt surrounding their impromptu outing.

Turns out it’s hard to concentrate on clothing with the phrase, “Adrien’s Princess” echoing around your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really takes me back to every production week ever. Who knew I'd miss those hectic days? Final chapter is next and thanks for all the cool comments!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually dont have an excuse for how long this took other than... lol sorry. BUT ITS DONE. PLEASE ENJOY YOUR FINAL CHAPTER.

“Is it always this packed?” Alya more-or-less yelled.

“On finale nights? Absolutely!” Nino pulled open the pub door, letting the venue’s soundtrack of pop tunes and laughter flood out into the street as the trio made their way inside.

The restaurant was buzzing. Colorful lights hung from the ceiling as the comfortable thrum of music played as a backdrop to the many conversations happening at each of the packed tables. It was an energizing atmosphere, one that simultaneously drew you in and set your teeth on edge at the activity in every corner.

“Our troupe comes here all the time, especially after a show closes. In fact, I’m pretty sure our patronage is what single-handedly keeps this place in business—“

The three of them pulled up short as a flurry of Nerf darts flew past them to ricochet off a framed picture to their left, sending it crashing to the ground with a crunch of broken glass.

“—which is good considering the amount of property damage we tend to cause,” Nino sighed. Marinette watched as a group of teenagers tore past, raining foam bullets down on each other as they called out a friendly greeting to their newly-arrived Stage Manager.

“Are we even going to be able to find seats?” she questioned, scooting closer to her friends as the crowd in the entryway swelled around them. Despite her earlier reservations, a little seed of excitement had bloomed in Marinette at the thought of seeing Adrien again. She couldn’t help but hope that being in a more casual setting might put her at ease enough to actually carry a semi-coherent conversation with him.

 _‘After all, we aren’t actor and audience member here,’_  she thought to herself. _‘Just two teens out to have a little fun like everyone else…’_

Nino cut a path through the chaos, speaking up to be heard over the volume of the pub. “The place usually clears out pretty quickly after the dinner rush,” he assured them. “Plus we have tables reserved near the back.”

“How’s this for different?” Alya prompted, giving Marinette an excited smile. The trio began to make their way to the far corner of the restaurant, getting stopped practically every few feet as they encountered someone from the cast or crew.

 _‘These people just might be insane,’_  Marinette mused.

“Hey! There’s a betting pool on whether Alix or Kim can finish more mozzarella sticks, you in?” said one heavily made-up ensemble girl, leaning over the back of her booth to snag Nino by the collar.

“Put me down for twenty on Kim,” the boy responded.

They trekked about four more feet before a swarm of techies made their way past.

“Chloé’s trying to get the owner to fire himself again,” they giggled, pulling out their phones as the group headed toward the distant sounds of screeching.

Two more tables over.

“Oh, Nino! A bunch of the cast members are in the bathroom trying to summon the ghost of Richard Rodgers, and they wanted to see if you happened to have a spare roll of mic tape to complete their pentagram.”

 _‘Yep. These people are most definitely insane,’_  Marinette concluded, grinning despite the pandemonium.

And before she knew it, they had already been there for twenty minutes.

Their group had yet to actually make it to the main cast table, caught as they were in all the conversations spiraling from the booths surrounding the big affair, but Marinette could just spot it in the edge of her vision. The large table tucked into the corner of the restaurant was filled with laughing teens and seemed to hold the most activity (as well as generate the most noise). People swarmed around, switching chairs and swapping jests in some sort of modern-day satire of the last supper as chaos ruled.

Marinette couldn’t bring herself to look too closely, painfully aware of who was more than likely situated in the eye of the storm. But with every step and every finished conversation, Nino led her closer. Closer to the cast table, closer to the main cast, and closer to…

A boy slipped out of the crowd, laughing as he swiveled towards them. Marinette recognized him as the actor who played Fred, and she cracked a smile as he nearly collided with them in his rush to run off.

“Yo, Nathanaël! Watch it there!” Nino laughed, grabbing the boy’s shoulder just seconds before it could crash into Alya.

“Sorry!” the redhead piped, coming up short before sending the girl a sincere smile.

“No, problem,” Alya responded easily. “Looks like you’re in a hurry.”

Nathanaël nodded. “I heard I was needed on the roof,” he said, giving a wistful shrug, “and I’ve learned better than to question those sorts of summons.”

Nino gave a groan, probably running through every possible roof-related disaster in his mind before he just shook his head with a snort.

“Just _try_ and make sure they don’t set anything on fire this time,” the stage manager said, prompting both boys to wince at a shared memory. “Oh, and this is Alya and her friend Marinette, by the way.”

“Nice to—“ Nathanaël cut off sharply as his eyes snagged on Marinette, mouth curving up into an amused smile as the girl just looked on in befuddlement.

 _‘Do I have something in my teeth?’_  she thought frantically, squirming under the same knowing look she’d received from a number of smug cast members that night. Nathanaël spoke again, gaze never leaving her. “Has he seen her yet?”

“Not yet. We got sidetracked,” Nino responded conspiratorially, sharing an unreadable look with the redhead as both boys turned their attention to the now very-confused girl before them.

“Perfect. I want to see this.”

Marinette didn’t like the palpable sense of scheming that radiated from their smiles, narrowing her eyes as she crossed her arms. “All right, what’s with the looks?” she grilled, stomach dropping further as their eyes seemed to widen in response to something happening over her shoulder. “If there’s some sort of prank—“

“Hey, look! Adrien’s Princess is here!”

Marinette whirled at the sound, and the crowd before her parted to reveal the outstretched finger of one Alix Kubdel. The girl was grinning, an expression mirrored on the faces of the dozen or so teens situated around the table as conversations mixed with a new swell of laughter at her words. Marinette stiffened, eyes flitting over their mischievous looks before settling on the figure seated next to the leading lady herself.

She almost dropped to the floor.

 _‘There’s no_  way _that’s…’_

She distantly registered the sound of clattering metal, spoons raining down onto the table as the boy shook them free from where they were previously nestled in his wild nest of hair.

His wild nest of _blonde_  hair.

Marinette felt her mouth pop open as a pair of familiar eyes landed on her, widening in shock between messy bangs before a tanned hand batted the strands away. Quick as a flash, the teen's face morphed into the picture of excitement, a toothy smile nearly separating his jaw from the rest of his head as he suddenly stood.

 _‘That_ couldn’t _be…’_

The table rattled as one steel-tipped combat boot swung up onto its surface, swiftly followed by another as the boy vaulted atop it. Glasses tipped, plates shifted, and a chorus of grumbled laughter broke out at the acrobatic display, but those gathered around just clutched at the quivering wooden surface as if it were perfectly acceptable that one of their own was tearing his way across the tabletop to leap down on the other side.

As if it were perfectly acceptable that that same boy marched right up to her, grabbing her hand lightly as he took a knee.

And as if it were perfectly acceptable that the first words out of his mouth (that is, once his lips had removed themselves from the back of her clammy hand) were a saccharine purr Marinette could just barely hear over the erratic thump of her pulse.

“Ah, so my princess returns!”

His voice.

That _face_.

If John Truitt threw out his hairbrush, slipped on a black hoodie, and picked up a copy of “Flirting for Dummies”, he just might have begun to resemble the figure before her. Though even then, Marinette couldn’t quite force herself to believe that the scruffy boy now straightening with a grin and the poised young man she’d just seen on stage just an hour ago were, in fact, the same person.

 _‘Oh my God, ’_  she thought dizzily, blushing despite herself at his romantic (if overplayed) gesture. _‘Can this seriously be—‘_

“Adrien Agreste,” the teen said grandly, gesturing to himself before dipping into a practiced bow. Behind him came a chorus of snickers as his castmates rolled their eyes at his dramatics. Adrien whirled to make a shooing motion at them before returning his inquisitive gaze to her. “…And you are?”

Marinette tried not to buckle. She really did. But when all that came out her mouth was a high pitched “MMMMM…”, she was already searching for her escape route.

Her eyes slid to the archway to her left at about the same time Alya’s did, prompting the reporter to sneak her finger into the back of Marinette’s belt loop, effectively pinning her in place until her squeak morphed into some semblance of her name.

“M-Marinette!” the dark haired teen managed to blurt. She hoped her smile leaned more towards the pleased end of the spectrum rather than the overwhelmed end as she took a steadying breath. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Well, Marinette Dupain-Cheng," Adrien drawled with a grin, extracting a familiar (if rumpled) pink rose from his hoodie pouch before extending it towards her with a flourish. “I’d be honored if you would dine with me tonight.”

 

* * *

 

To say the next hour was a whirlwind would be putting it lightly, but Marinette’s spinning head couldn’t come up with a more apt descriptor for her dinner with the cast members.

Alya had taken one look at the crowded table and declared (much to her best friend’s panic) that she’d be joining Nino over with the crew, which meant the only person at the cast table who Marinette actually knew was Rose. Though thankfully, when Adrien had hoisted her wide-eyed up onto the table and across to a seat, Marinette found herself only a few people away from her sweet-mannered classmate.

Rose had made sure to send an encouraging glance each time her stutter made a reappearance, and after getting over her initial shock, Marinette was pleased to find she settled in with the group quite nicely. Alya had always been the more socially gifted of the pair, making friends of strangers in no time flat, but tonight Marinette graciously held her own in the face of all her new acquaintances — she laughed when jokes were told, smiled while stories were spun, and listened intently as gossip was shared. (Gossip was incredibly common: rumors sprang up at a breakneck pace as information funnelled its way to the main table from all corners of the pub.)

Although she was an outsider in their bizarre little world, Marinette couldn’t help but feel like she was somehow a part of the excitement. She responded when she could get a word in edgewise, but for the most part was content to lean back and listen. From the maelstrom of wild stories thrown her way (“Did we mention the time he locked himself in the props closet two minutes before his solo?”) all the way to a missing wallet that resulted in an impromptu rendition of some song about “your fault” (???), she never experienced a dull moment among the raucous bunch.

True to his leading man reputation, Adrien was at the center of the action for most of the night. Every bit of mischief, every conversation seemed to involve him in some way or another, and it was obvious from everyone's behavior that he was much loved among his cast. Of course, that didn’t stop his co-stars from mercilessly roasting him throughout the dinner, throwing taunt after tease his way as the blonde shot back with his own jests, but Marinette found their brand of banter to be incredibly fascinating.

That is, until the spotlight was turned on her.

“So, Princess,” Alix began, using the pet name Marinette had been unanimously dubbed with. “Tell me how you managed to swindle Adrien out of his front row tickets after saying no more than two words to him.”

Marinette eyes widened, then slid over the boy next to her as he tuned into the conversation. _‘I knew it,’_  she thought, squirming under the inquisitive glances being thrown her way. _‘Of course he was the one who arranged for those seats.’_

“See… I-I, uh…”

“Well _obviously_ , when Nino told me he’d met an old friend in the crowd, I wanted to make sure both lovely ladies could get the best view possible!” Adrien cut in, mercifully saving Marinette from an uncomfortable response. “You guys know I never end up using my extra tickets anyway, so why not?”

“Yeah right,” said the larger boy to Marinette’s left, the one named Kim. “And we’re all _so sure_  it had nothing to do with the fact you wanted to stare at your pretty little fan crush every time you were on stage, right, loverboy?”

Thankfully, the following round of laughter drowned out Marinette’s squeak, but it didn't do much to tame the blush that feathered its way across her cheeks.

“Says the guy who wouldn’t stop making out with his show-sister backstage,” Adrien shot back without missing a beat. As he threw a suggestive glance between his cast mates, one hand gave Marinette’s knee a steadying squeeze beneath the table. The girl exhaled at his gesture, glad to see the attention diverted from herself as the group latched onto another target.

As if he could sense her unease, Adrien gave Marinette a careful nudge at the elbow. She turned to him, snapping herself out of her haze to watch as he mouthed a quick, _“You good?”_

Her nod in response must have been a tad delayed if his concerned quirk of the brow was any indication and before she could further argue against his worry, Adrien had quickly slid beneath the table.

Marinette blinked, looking down on the boy as he crouched in the shadows by her feet. Of course no one else around them took notice of the actor’s swift descent (not surprising consider the number of other odd happenings that had gone unremarked upon that night) and Marinette found herself shrugging as he gestured for her to follow.

 

The vinyl booth aided her shimmy, the slick material sliding along her clothes as she wormed her way beneath the table. Jacket in hand, her head just barely avoiding a collision, Marinette thankfully managed to reach the floor in one piece. Adrien grinned at her arrival, his green eyes still remarkably bright despite the dimness of the cramped space, and helped her crouch beside him.

“Let’s go somewhere better,” he whispered, balancing on the balls of his feet. “Somewhere with less people.”

“I… okay,” Marinette responded, not knowing what to make of the words but feeling her pulse flutter anyway. It skipped a little more when she was met with an excited, “Great!”

Adrien turned, crawling his way across feet and between legs to reach the end of the table, Marinette trailing in his wake to pop up on the other side. Once they were both free, the boy ducked around a corner with a sharp incline of his head. He led Marinette in a winding path past the kitchen, through areas she vaguely realized were for employees only, and finally up a narrow staircase.

Upon reaching a bright red door at the top, Adrien held it open with a flourish, and Marinette stepped through to find herself assaulted by the cool night air.

The roof.

He’d brought her to the roof.

“I’m not jumping, if that's what you had in mind,” she said.

Adrien laughed at her words, shutting the entryway behind him before leaning back against its surface.

“I didn’t bring you out here to jump,” he assured her. “Trust me. I’ve taken that leap before and it’s a real ankle roller.”

Marinette blinked at him, wondering what kind of dare could convince someone to actually try something like that.

_‘You’d have to be a special kind of lunatic to go jumping across rooftops at night…’_

“In that case,” Marinette said, pushing her idle thoughts aside and burrowing into her jacket, “why are we out here?” It occurred to her that they were now alone together for the first time, no friends or cast members to act as a buffer, yet somehow the girl found herself more at ease than she'd been all night. Perhaps it was the fresh air. Or his open expression.

“I know my crowd can be a little…” Adrien made a vague gesture, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. “...Abrasive,” he finally decided, nodding. “My friends can seem abrasive to people who aren’t used to the way we treat each other. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting overwhelmed in there.”

“Oh…” Marinette sighed, a smile edging her lips at his sensitivity. “Thank you.”

She wanted to assure Adrien that she would have been fine with staying (Lord knew she wasn’t trying to drag him from his clique), but things _had_ been getting a bit overwhelming for her. Marinette considered herself an extrovert, but even her social nature had its limits. Especially when faced with so many strangers.

“Don’t mention it,” Adrien said with a wave of his hand, “I need to get away from them sometimes, too. You were just a handy excuse.”

Her face must have fallen a bit, as he hastily rushed to amend himself.

“Not that I didn’t want to spend time with you of course! I mean, I’ve been trying to speak to you all weekend!”

“R-really?” Marinette squeaked, startled by the confession.

“Well, yeah,” he said, giving her a genuine nod and a flash of white teeth in the night. “Ever since I saw you at the first show I’ve wanted to get to know you.”

“Is that why you gave us your tickets? Because you… because you wanted to t-talk to me?”

Another nod.

“Why?” she asked, voice shot through with wonder.

_‘Of all the people in the crowd, why in the world would he single me out?’_

“You just seemed so excited,” Adrien explained, shrugging his shoulders with a grin. “Your excitement fueled my excitement, and I ended up giving one of the best performances of my life. Honestly? I think you might be some kind of lucky charm.”

“Or maybe a princess?” Marinette said, recalling her nickname.

“Actually, I think Alix came up with that one, and I’m afraid you might be stuck with it. In theatre, pet names tend to stick.” Adrien laughed, seeming to call upon a memory. “Like this one time. I was messing around in the wings, not looking where I was going, and I ended up bumping into a standing mirror. God, you should have seen the prop mistress’ face when she found me on the ground, floundering in a pool of broken glass and late for my next cue! Everyone still calls me Chat Noir to this day, saying I’m nothing but bad luck.”

“I’ll trade you,” Marinette offered, giggling despite herself as she imagined the scenario he described. With all the zany stories she’d heard that night, the girl began to wonder if perhaps there was a reason that drama kids were so… well… _dramatic._

“I _would_ make a pretty princess,” Adrien mused.

“True," Marinette replied distractedly, "but you already make such a handsome tomcat.”

…

_‘I did not just say that out loud.’_

“You think so?” Adrien asked with a grin, still leaning against the door. Marinette flushed, choosing to forgo an answer in favor of shifting atop the rooftop, while the sound of cars and distant music overtook the conversation.

“Sky’s pretty,” Adrien chirped after a few moment of silence, graciously cutting through the lull.

“It is,” Marinette agreed, thankful for the distraction of looking at the full moon. It sailed serenely above the city, pale and glowing. “Everything just seems so surreal this hour.”

“ _'Tis now the very witching time of night,_ ” he murmured in answer, as if by instinct. Marinette perked up at the poetic words, something in his tone instantly drawing her in and lighting a curious spark behind her ribs. She turned back to regard him.

Adrien must have noticed her shift in focus, as a quick smile stretched his lips in response. The look lasted a mere second, there and gone again as an unreadable expression settled in its place, and Marinette found herself wondering whether or not he’d ever truly grinned in the first place. In an instant the actor’s face was entirely unlike the boy who had just hours ago covered himself in spoons, his features now smooth as if draped in heavy velvet.

There was intent in that shadowed visage.

Moving slowly, Adrien pushed himself off the door, eyes flitting between the blue of her stare and darker shade of the sky as he leisurely paced towards her. Marinette swallowed as he approached, feeling an expectant hush fall over the roof.

The evening held its breath, as did she.

“'Tis now the very witching time of night,” Adrien repeated, voice taking on that rhythmic timbre he’d utilized on stage. It was entrancing, enticing. “When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood and do such bitter business as the day would quake to look on.”

Once he’d closed the space between them, Adrien’s hand snaked out to twine with her own, and Marinette was couldn't say whether it was his hypnotic words or his soft tug that coaxed her to follow him on his path.

“Soft!” Adrien cried out, pulling his partner along as he twirled her slowly about. “Now to my mother! O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever the soul of Nero enter this firm bosom.”

He pulled her close, their gazes locked and his voice hushed as the actor tiptoed them backwards towards the very edge of the sky. “Let me be cruel, not unnatural; I will speak daggers to her, but use none.”

Reaching the lip of the roof, Adrien lowered Marinette down to sit upon the precipice. She complied, still thoroughly enraptured with the words he spoke as she sank down on the edge. Never breaking their eye contact, Adrien took a knee at her side, pressing Marinette’s knuckles once more against his lips before uttering the final stanza of his soliloquy.

“My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites. How in my words somever she be shent; to give them seals never, my soul, consent.”

Strangely enough, the sky did not applause.

For a solid half minute Marinette remained suspended in awe, feeling the words melt away into a keen silence as his mouth closed.

Had it been any other person in the world kneeling before her on a dusky rooftop, reciting Shakespeare with hands clasped tight, Marinette would have found the sentiment to be overplayed. Cheesy. Yet somehow the boy beside her had managed to tackle the feat without ever sounding tacky.

His immense artistry, the sincerity with which he spoke… The sentiment struck a cord in Marinette, and the breath caught in her lungs as Adrien dropped the guise to plop down next to her. He glanced over with a casual smile, as if he hadn’t just delivered an utterly stunning performance, and the shift in demeanor left her with traces of whiplash.

Just like that, the actor had fled again.

“H-how do you just _do_ that?” Marinette finally murmured, continually floating at the way Adrien seemed to study her.

“Do what?” he asked, throwing his arms out behind him and allowing his legs to swing freely off the roof.

“Change like that,” she clarified. “It’s just… one second you’re this silly guy with the puns and the smirks, and the next you’re this sweet gentleman with the words a-and the poetry that makes me want to—” Marinette swallowed down the last bit, electing to leave the confession stewing in its rightful place inside her head.

_‘…that makes me want to kiss you…’_

Adrien shrugged, leaning back on his hands and peering up at the starless sky. “It’s kind of what I’m supposed to do, being an actor and all,” he explained with a complicated smile. Marinette watched a shadow fall over his features, and the mood shift drew her eye to the way his brow tensed up. “With a father like mine, I had to learn early on how to put up a good face. Guess it’s just natural that my talent for acting like someone I’m not would carry over to the stage…”

At his shaky exhale, Marinette felt for the first time she was seeing a glimpse of the real Adrien Agreste. Not the cocky cast member persona, not John Truitt, or even the pleasant young man who’d smiled for the crowd as he stood in the receiving line. This Adrien was less confident, and more than a little discouraged if his continued silence was any indication. But something about his vulnerability only endeared him all the more to Marinette.

Figured. She always did have a thing for the sensitive types.

Adrien jumped a bit when Marinette’s hand slid over his, but after a moment he eased under her grasp with a look that was somewhere between hopeful and unbelieving.

“Well, whoever you are,” Marinette began, her words flowing more naturally than they had all evening, “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.” She grinned. “All four of five of you, to be exact.”

Their synchronized snickers seemed to ease the mounting tension, and a sudden light returned behind his vivacious green eyes.

“So which one is your favorite?” Adrien asked, squeezing their joined hands as they nestled atop the roof. “The gentleman or the joker?”

This time when he grinned at her, Marinette was pleased to find she didn’t have to stamp down a fiery blush (oh all right, maybe her cheeks _did_  heat up a bit, but that was just a technicality), and her answer came without the need to even think about it.

“I like this you,” she said simply. “The one who’s here with me right now.”

Adrien didn’t answer, but he smiled... and it was the most eloquent reply he'd given her all evening.

 _‘The quiet is fitting,’_ Marinette mused as they sat without conversation above the empty streets. _‘The perfect ending to a particularly loud weekend.’_

Of course as nice as the silence was, it couldn’t compare to when Adrien began a gentle humming. The boy spun a familiar tune, one that sparked a distinct flutter in her chest, and it wasn’t more than a few moments before Marinette found herself joining in. Together the pair swung into the chorus as they looked out over the brilliantly lit-up city before them, reveling in the simple joy of hands intertwined and melodies perfectly in-tuned.

Something about the scene was so keen, so right in its finality.

And when Adrien’s buzzing lips pressed a soft kiss against the side of her cheek, Mariette swore she could hear the sounds of a distant orchestra.

Playing a song she never wanted to get out of her head.

 

 

 


End file.
